Half the Perfect World
by Hermonthis
Summary: Spike/Julia - "On that fundamental ground where love's unwilled, unleashed, unbound and half the perfect world is found." Gift!fic for Nessie, who loves this pairing.


Dedicated to Nessie, because the Spike/Julia fans also need something to celebrate about! Title of the fic belongs to Leonard Cohen, recently covered by the wonderful and unassuming Madeleine Peyroux on her 2006 album, _Half the Perfect World_.

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**Half the Perfect World**

Julia with the long blonde hair like molten gold stares at the world through a foggy window and waits. She waits for the pressure cooker and the familiar high-pitched whistle that signals that the ribs are tender and soft.

Just another nine minutes and then she's back to the stove.

She hums a gentle tune under her breath, sometimes saying a word or two out loud. It's a quiet afternoon of warm rain, grey sky and a lazy sun that refuses to push back the clouds. It's not fair that the sun should be so lethargic when there's cooking to be done.

Wiping her hands onto her apron, she tucks her hair behind her ears and lets her gaze wander to the streets but all she could see were the tops of the umbrellas weaving their way around each other. A smile tugs the corner of Julia's mouth, like little dust bunnies floating on the black river roads.

That morning she had gone out in the rain to buy this week's groceries. Melting clumps of snow on the sidewalks huddled together and broke apart as her rubber boots stomped on them. With a splash and a dreary sigh they transformed into dirty water under her feet and joined the many other puddles on the pavement.

There was a certain melancholy watching snow melt, similar to the final curtain call of the Nutcracker ballet. The audience throws roses onto the stage because it would be the last performance for this winter season and a whole year before they would see the Sugar Plum Fairy and her partner dance again.

Julia rises from her chair, wipes her hands on the apron again and turns off the stove. Moving the pot off the element, she gathers some garlic from the pantry and sets them on the cutting board. The in the process of chopping the cloves up the doorbell rings.

"Coming."

It's Spike and he's bought some bread for their dinner along with a few other things. The sight of him made her smile, rainwater dripped from his green hair as he struggled to balance the grocery bags in one hand and the French loaves in another. Relieving him of his parcels, she notices that his brown trench coat was undone and he had stepped into some deep puddle, judging from the length of his wet trousers. Spike follows her downward gaze and shrugs,

"I couldn't see where I was going."

He kisses her on the cheek and all is forgiven. But before any mud tracks are made on the carpet he has to change clothes and could he throw them into the laundry pile, they haven't been washed yet and don't put them on the bed because they're wet.

Slippered feet slide up behind her and two arms wind themselves around her waist as she adds the garlic to the pot and lets the ribs simmer in the pot.

"What's for dinner?" The sweet and sour aroma touches his tongue and he's hungry already.

"Cabbages," she says and Spike frowns, hoping she's kidding. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear she chuckles, "and your favourite ribs."

They eat supper at the kitchen table because that's the only table they have in this small apartment of theirs.

Besides the single bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchen, they don't have much room for anything else. What serves as the laundry room is actually one of the two hallway closets available and on good days Julia can hang out their laundry on the wires and chat with the other women in the other buildings. On rainy days Spike helps her hang them up in the bathroom, pushes the shower curtains aside and spreads the towels over the railing.

"Guess what?" he says, picking up a glass of water to go with his third plate of ribs. "I talked to the real estate guy today and asked if we could get a lower deal on that house."

As he suspects, the news lights up her eyes like florescent lamps and she puts down her fork, her head tilted to the side.

"What did he say?"

"He said that our offer is significantly lower than what his client wants, but he's willing to go for it." Here Spike takes out a cigarette and with a flick of the thumb; he's puffing clouds into the air. "He says there's other offers made but none of them are willing to put as much investment into an older house like we are."

What Spike really means is that none of the other potential buyers are willing to repaint the walls, put up new fencing around the yard and fix the bathrooms because they're all city folk with bills in their wallets but they wouldn't know a screwdriver from a hammer when it came down to it.

She laughs and claps her hands in glee. A house in the countryside, that was a rare thing to find nowadays and despite the work that needed to be done, she's looking forward to it.

Spike removes the butt between his lips and whispers over the table, "Julia – we could have a house of her own!"

That night as they crawl into bed, she snuggles into his arms and breathes deeply. A house is what they always wanted, to get away from the city life and have a little privacy of their own. He touches her lips with a soft brush of his fingers,

"I'd finally have that herb garden and I'll make a swing beside that old willow tree. Next summer I'll make an arbour for the backyard with the leftover planks from the renovations and paint it white." He rambles on into the night, aware that the woman beside him is asleep.

"You like white so I'll paint the arbour white. I'll paint the house white too because it makes it look clean. The front door will be red – no blue – green – the door will be green and everything inside will be new – almost new. Upstairs we'll have three bedrooms, one for us, one for the baby, and one guest room when Annie comes to visit."

Julia sighs in her sleep and rolls over, oblivious to Spike's plans of renovating the bathroom with an ocean theme, transparent blue shower curtains with little orange clownfish and bubbly seahorses. Something that will sparks the kid's imagination."

Resting his head on the pillows, Spike looks up at the ceilings and sees a world of clear, sapphire skies, a world much different from the rainy grey ones he's used to.

"Oh Julia, you'll love it."


End file.
